Page 9 of Conflict
“I’m…I’m…appalled.” I tilt my head in thought and amend my statement. “No. You know what? I appreciate it. Idohave great tits. I’m wearing a bikini to show them off, so thank you, Shane. Ogle away”
An expression of appreciation covers his face, and I squirm at the hunger in his eyes, trying not to notice he’s inching closer to me, or how my pulse races with each nearly imperceptible movement.
“And may I know the name of the beautiful woman who has such a gorgeous body, along with an angelic face that would have any man kneeling in worship?”
I almost snort. If it were any other man, at any other time, I would have, along with an eye roll. But for some reason, on this night, with this man, I’m up for anything. Cheesy pickup lines and all.
Against my better judgment, I respond without hesitation. “I’m Alyssa from Atlanta, just finished my graduate program, and soon-to-be hotshot accountant.”
I gave him more than he asked for, but considering I’m already wondering how to get him back to my room, I figure a little small talk can’t hurt anyone. And why not? Shane’s incredibly handsome, we’ve established we’re both single, and to be honest, I’msonot opposed to a one-night stand. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve reached any base, and the thought of this man on top of, inside, and/or all around me is incredibly arousing. Not that he’s offered or anything, but if I have my way, he totally will.
“As you know, I’m Shane, been outta the school game for six or so years, and currently an employee at this resort who’s breaking the rules by enjoying the hot tub with a gorgeous guest.”
I’m taken aback at his admission, never having imagined a scenario where he wasn’t a corporate guy, or a surgeon, or maybe even a pilot. Not that it matters, it’s just… At first glance, there was something about him, from his gorgeous face to the perfectly manicured nails, that exudes wealth.
I knew the type, and he fits the bill perfectly. Or so I’d thought. I mean, what kinda guy who works at the beach worries about his nails? Apparently, my initial reaction was wrong.
“Wait…what?” I ask, slightly perturbed that my one shot at a little fun isn’t going to pan out the way I wanted. I’m guessing there’s some kind of conflict of interest since he’s an employee and will most likely not be fucking my brains out in the next thirty minutes.
He has the decency to look sheepish. “I probably should’ve mentioned that in the beginning. I’m working here, learning the ropes during the off-season,” he responds as I take a drink, and his nonchalance is…rather irritating.
I nearly spew rum and Coke in his face. Yes, his face, because those faint little movements have finally brought him right next to me, no space left between his thigh and mine.
“You?” I ask, perusing his body under the water now that he’s up close and personal.
Huh. An employee. It takes me entirely off guard, and I’ve realized I misjudged him.
I take a moment to check out the entire package he’s offering. He has noticeable rock-hard abs rippling under the water. Tight trunks cover thick thighs, and his pecs… God, those pecs are heavenly. I’m afforded an up-close-and-personal view of my favorite sight. Then his tight, hard nipples catch my attention, a droplet of water dangling from one of their tips. A droplet of water that has my mouth suddenly parched and aching to devour it.
His lips quirk up in that spectacular grin I’ve grown to adore in such a short time. An eyebrow cocks in my direction. “What’s the matter, sunshine? Too good to slum it with the pool boy?”
My cheeks flush with heat. And then, for some reason, desire turns into embarrassment, which turns into shame-filled anger. This guy, this pool boy, is just messing with me, and considering I thought I was going to get laid, I don’t like it one freaking bit. But he continues, not letting me get a word in.
“Let me guess. You’re probably about twenty-three, a born-and-bred Southern Georgian belle.”
I frown, and he chuckles.
“It’s the accent, sunshine. Sweet like a Georgia peach. You’re here looking for a little fun with a bad boy before you go and either work for Daddy’s business or settle for the blue blood he’s chosen for you.”
I nearly gasp because he basically described Ariana, my parents’ life plan for her, and the idiot she’s engaged to. He described theexactwoman I’m not and never want to be. It’s a good thing this guy works at a beach resort and not at a carnival where he makes money by guessing life stories. The quick turn from a flirtatious pursuit to him judging me so mistakenly infuriates me.
Indignant, I stand, placing my hands firmly on my hips. I try—and fail—to ignore the way his eyes rake over my body to take in the sight of me wet. And hell, if nipples affect him as much as they do me, he’s getting quite a show. But I don’t care. I’m too pissed that his remarks hit too close to home.
“For your information,Shane, I’ll be twenty-five next month. I graduated with my MBA just two weeks ago—summa cum laude, mind you. I’ll be starting in a new position with one of the most influential conglomerates in the country. No, the world, after the new year. Not because of my father, not because of my last name, but because of my own merit and qualifications. I willnotbe working with my father. Iwillnot marry a man just because he deems it a good match. You know nothing about me; your presumptions are inaccurate and downright insulting.”
He doesn’t say a word, so I continue. “And for your information, Miss Cleo, it doesn’t matter where I came from. When Idofind a man, he could be a plumber or a teacher or a mailman for all I care. He can be a bad boy, or he can be the sweetest man alive. The only qualifications he’ll need are to be honest, loyal, and killer in the sack and to love me the same way I’ll love him—forme,flaws and all. So fucking nice to meet you, Shane. Have a great life.”
My diatribe ends with a huff. This man, gorgeous and enticing as he may be, deserves nothing more from me, and even though I had higher hopes for the end of this evening, I’m not sticking around for his rebuttal.
Before he can respond, I exit the hot tub and march towards my lounge chair. One-night stand be damned.
I have no idea why our innocent flirtation turned into some weird sort of judgment. With an angry and alcohol-addled brain, I’m twisting into my clothes when I realize, unfortunately, the pool boy, Shane, is persisting. He calls out my name, but I ignore him. I start heading inside, but he catches up with me and grabs my elbow.
Ignoring the electricity from his touch, I whirl around, seething. “What now? What could you possibly want with someone like the woman you think I am? After all, to you, I’m a spoiled, selfish, undeserving offspring who will be either handed a silver spoon or passed along to the best suitor. I amnotthat girl. I pick who I want, except you know what? Tonight, I was going to pick you. I wanted to screw you,” I say, poking his bare chest with my finger, watching his eyes widen, “so maybe there is something wrong with my…my…my picker!”
I search his eyes, waiting for him to agree with me or apologize. Nope. He doesn’t even appear the slightest bit sheepish or apologetic. Instead, he aims that grin down at me, cocky, and something inside me begins to stir again.
No, Alyssa, no. Down, girl, I warn myself.Just because he’s six foot something of lean, taut muscle, with unruly chestnut-brown hair and beautiful, blue eyes a girl could melt into doesn’t mean he’s the guy for you. Even just for tonight. No, don’t go there, I tell myself.
